One comes from one night.
I woke up rubbing my eyes because of a bright light pouring in through my bedroom window. My bedroom window faced the north so the sun and moon never directly touched it. My window did face the yard, but this wasn't headlights. I put on my glasses, and with amazement, the northern lights shimmered their haunting dance in front of me. I went to my desk (the very one that I am writing from right now) and sat on it, gazing up into the sky in amazement. I didn't dare dress and go outside since it was one of our freezing cold North Dakota nights. I could feel a slight wind through my thin nightshirt that I tugged over my legs, and I clutched them close to my body to remain warm.
The other comes from one day.
My husband and I were on the other side of the world in England. We went to Stonehenge during a December sunrise, and we took the tour where we could actually go up to the stones. We walked through the frost covered grass, our footsteps signs that we were there. Once within the stones, a sense of warmth came over us unlike outside the mysterious circle.
Later in the day, we watched the sunset go down from the top of the Glastonbury Tor. People were everywhere, enjoying the day, and it felt like it was just us up there. I wanted to stay, but we had a long drive back to London. From sunrise to sunset, it was a magical day with my soulmate.
I find it strange that are both memories are completely different as night and day, but they each have something to do with the wonder of nature and the potential of the human spirit.